


F*cking Magical

by TimeLadyoftheSith



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F, F/M, Human AU, Kissing, Older Man/Younger Woman, One Shot, Photgrapher, f bombs galore, off on the wrong foot, shop owner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 05:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15902187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeLadyoftheSith/pseuds/TimeLadyoftheSith
Summary: Rose Tyler is a twenty five year old photographer, and Aidan Lennox is a forty-six year old widower who owns a book shop.It’s the fifth Anniversary of Aidan’s wife’s death, and Rose gets in his way. Will their harsh words be forgiven, or are first impressions not always set in stone?





	F*cking Magical

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caedmon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/gifts).



Aidan growled as he pulled his mobile out when it buzzed for the hundredth time it seemed. He squinted at the screen, while the damp leaves crunched under foot. It was his only niece Clara, once again asking him if he was coming to her and Danny’s engagement party. “For Christ Sakes, Clara! I told you! I’m coming!” He didn’t even wait for her to answer before snapping the phone shut. Yes it was the twenty first century and everyone said he should get a smart phone, but they could all go stuff it.   
  
Normally Clara was the only person he didn’t snap at, but it wasn’t a good day for him. Then again, he hadn’t had a good day in ages, years. He tucked his scarf up around his neck, determined to make it back to the bookstore before Bill Potts, his brilliant but sometimes over enthusiastic shop assistant ended up being flirted into an unnecessary discount by a pair of fluttering lashes and pink glossed smile.   
  
“Fuck!” Aidan shouted the word as he collided with something pink and yellow, which resulted in him being tangled up in arms and a strap on the hard path. “Watch where the hell you’re goin’!”He managed to untangle himself, rubbing his hand as it throbbed, and stood up.   
  
“You walked into me!” The offended voice drew his eyes down to a blonde girl in a pink jacket pushing herself up. “I wasn’t even walkin’! I was photographin’ the leaves!” Aidan was about to fire back an insult about taking up the whole path with a pair of narrowed, whiskey colored eyes met his, and they widened a bit. They were the most stunning eyes he’d ever seen. “You’re bleedin!” The woman scrambled to her feet, clutching a rather older looking camera that might have been expensive ten years ago.   
  
“Thanks for that astute observation.” Aidan snorted as he dug a tissue out of his pocket to wipe off the scraped palms. The girl, who couldn’t be a day past twenty, made a concerned noise, and he snapped his eyes up to find her digging out some alcohol wipes. Her eyes weren’t the only things that were stunning.   
  
She had a wide mouth with a full lower lip that would have seemed too much, but balanced her round face, high cheek bones, and adorable nose out perfectly. Her blonde hair was loose around her face, with a leaf or two stuck in it, and the afternoon sun caught the strands making it almost glow. “Here, um, these should help ‘til you can go wash it.”   
  
_Stop it Aidan_ he chastised himself as the nervousness and concern in her voice made him feel a bit breathless. _You’re twice her age and besides, haven’t you learned your lesson?_   
  
“Thanks.” He took the small packets from her, ripping his eyes away from the woman’s teeth worrying her lip. “But I wouldn’t need ‘em if you weren’t blocking the fucking path!”   
  
“Well maybe you can use them ta clean out your vocabulary!” The girl fired back, her whole body tensing as she stared up at him. “You talk to your wife like that?!” She snarled, gesturing with a finger at his wedding band.   
  
“My wife’s dead!” Aidan half shouted, as the reason for his bad mood returned. Five years, five fucking years today, and as always, something had to fuck it up more. The girl squeaked, her pretty mouth dropping in shock. “Now get out of my way!” He shoved past her, not actually touching her, to storm up the path. He could almost hear Melody scolding him for being so rude.   
  
The girl called out an apology, but Aidan didn’t turn. He just shoved the sullied alcohol wipes into his pocket and glowered at the world in general. It was habit to pull out his mobile. He pressed the voice message button. “You have one message.” The robotic female voice said.   
  
“Sweetie, I’m running a little bit late. I just have to lock up the shop. Go ahead and order for me. I’ll be there in twenty.” Melody’s voice echoed out of the earpiece, and the register dinged in the background. “Love you, and be nice to the waiter!”  
  
“Message end. To return the call press one.”   
  
“Can’t return the call.” Aidan huffed, flipping the phone shut with a sniff. The antique shop was empty now, boarded up and abandoned. It had been a robbery, but the man who’d done it hadn’t survived either. He’d had a knife, and Melody had grabbed a spiked mace from a display. Three stab wounds to her stomach hadn’t stopped her from fighting to try to survive. The security footage still haunted Aidan’s dreams. “I fucking hate October!” He grumbled, and dodged traffic to open the door of his bookshop.   
  
Rose stared after the man who had crashed into her. Honestly he had been so bloody rude, blaming her for the tumble. She had just been trying out her new, well new to her, camera. Painting and sketching had managed to pay some of her meager bills, but photography was where the money was. She was getting good at it, especially still life, and she had just lined up the most stunning shot of a leaf tumbling down.   
  
Now the shot was ruined, as was her mood. Yes, the grumpy scotsman had been rude, but then she’d baited right into his trap. To make her feel even worse, her one good insult had been voided out at his exclamation that his wife was dead. It wasn’t a lie, those aquamarine eyes had been full of grief. “I’m sorry!” She called after him, but he didn’t turn around, just lifted his phone to his ear and kept prowling away. Guilt ate at her, but she couldn’t take it back now.   
  
“Now what?” Rose kicked at the leaves with her trainer, as she stared around at the park. She needed more photos for the blog that was paying her, but the autumn magic in the park had fizzled away with the disappearance of those beautiful eyes and curly salt and pepper hair. Yes, he had been gorgeous, even with his bad attitude. The velvet coat over a band shirt and zip hoodie had given him a somewhat mad but intriguing look, but she knew it was stupid.   
  
_Men like that don’t look at girls like you_. Rose mentally chastised herself, as she hefted her bulky camera up from where it had fallen against her stomach. _Besides, he was rude and obviously grieving. Brush it off and get to work, if you want to eat something besides cup of soups for the rest of the month._ _  
_ _  
_The wind stirred the trees, and Rose raised the viewfinder to her eye as leaves began to flutter down. She pushed the incident aside, and began to snap the photos, but the thrill and magic didn’t come back.  
  
*AR*AR*AR*  
  
“What part of ‘askba fuckin’ employee for assistance is so hard to comprehend?!” Aidan absolutely meant to shout at the gaggle of teens standing around the now shattered case that had once protected a first edition autographed copy of A Christmas Carol. “Do any of ya have any idea how much tha’s worth?!” He threw his hands up, hurrying around the counter. “Well don’ just stand there! Get your arses out of the way! Now!”   
  
“Doctor.” Bill grabbed his elbow, with that look on her face that said she was irritated. Well fuck all, so was he! “I’ll clean up. Go take lunch.” He opened his mouth to protest, as the bell over the door chimed to signify the irresponsible gaggle of half grown apes leaving. “Nuh uh! Go!”   
  
“It’s not even noon!” Aidan yanked his arm away, as he knelt to lift the thankfully unharmed book from the pile of glass. He eased it back onto the now exposed velvet cushion. “You take a lunch! Ow!” Bill slapped the back of his head, and when he turned she crossed her arms and had that look that said the next one wouldn’t be as soft. “Fine! But no flirting with customers!”  
  
“My flirting makes you more money than your bad mouth, now out!” Bill pointed at the door, and Aidan grabbed his coat and the paper he had been reading, and shoved it open.   
  
He could use a coffee, and there was a nice cart that sold them black and cheap in the park. Kicking at the leaves, he wandered across the road to get a cup. Then he made his way over to his usual bench to sit down.   
  
Aidan crossed his right ankle over his knee as he unfolded the newspaper. The wind was a bit more nippy, as he sipped his coffee and stared out the duckless duckpond that was gray with the overcast sky above. He pulled the pencil from behind his ear, and began to work the daily crossword.  
  
He wasn’t always rude to customers, just the stupid or clumsy ones. That outburst had been justified, and Aidan wasn’t going to apologize for it. The snap of a camera shutter came from his right, but he didn’t look. After a moment, it echoed again, followed by “Okay Amy, now smile!” It had been a week since he’d heard that voice, and his pencil paused. Turning his head, he found the blonde girl directing a redheaded woman who was leaning against a tree.   
  
Amy, he hazarded a guess, smiled, and the blonde snapped another photo. The camera lowered, and she smiled too. Aidan almost spilled his coffee at the beauty of it. It lit up her whole face, and her tongue wedged between her teeth in the corner. “That good?” Aidan gave a snort at hearing another Scottish accent in the park, and mentally kicked himself for staring. The last thing he needed was for blondie to recognize him and start another row.   
  
“Perfect. I’ll upload these, touch ‘em up, and email ‘em to your agent!” Blondie laughed, and Aidan forced his eyes back to his paper. She’d almost caught him staring. “Tell Rory I said hello!”   
  
“I will!” Amy’s voice disappeared into the wind, and the park once again was peaceful. He wanted to look up, to see if Blondie was still there. He was feeling a bit guilty, for snapping at her.  
  
 _Have been all week_. He huffed in his mind. _Wasn’t her fault you weren’t watchin’ where you were goin’ and she did try to apologize._ _  
_  
Then again, if he did try to apologize, she’d probably think he was creepy or stalking her. She had probably forgotten all about it by now.  
  
 _Or she might smile at you_. His inner voice hummed. _She’s got such a beautiful smile_.   
  
“No. Stop thinking like that.” Aidan huffed into his coffee, before sipping again. He couldn’t flirt with the woman, she was Clara and Bill’s age for heaven’s sake. The camera snapped again, but he didn’t look up. He wouldn’t look up. Blondie didn’t need to be bothered.   
  
Rose had seen him come up the path as Amy had picked up a handful of leaves to toss up for a shot. He looked grumpy, just like last time, but still as sinfully beautiful. For a flickering moment, she hoped he’s noticed her, but he’d walked past grumbling about clumsy teenagers. She always saw him when he was in the park, but today he was early and it had caught her off guard.   
  
It wasn’t that Rose was particularly looking for him every day that week, for those aquamarine eyes shaded by serious brows. She just couldn’t help but notice him. There was something about him, about the confidence in his walk. It wasn’t arrogant, just, well, the movement of a man who knew who he was and wouldn’t be bothered by anyone’s opinions. He reminded her of a magician, or a professor, with just a hint of old school rockstar twirled in. She’d nicknamed him the Magician, as he always seemed to appear from seemingly nowhere and left her stunned.  
  
He never noticed her, but that was okay. Rose didn’t want him to catch her staring. He would probably think she was stalking him, or following him. She wasn’t. It was just that this park was so close to her studio flat, and between eleven and one the park wasn’t too packed to get great photos. Whether it be the engagement photos she did for a couple named Clara and Danny four days ago, or profile shots for Amy, a mildly empty park worked best.   
  
So what if the Magician was there. Maybe he lived or worked nearby. He was a bit older than her, maybe twenty years or so, definitely not old enough to be retired. That didn’t change the fact that she felt a bit flustered when he came walking by. Rose wanted to talk to him, to apologize for her accidental slip up of mentioning his wife, but she didn’t know how.   
  
As Amy left, she strongly considered approaching him, but the Magician was intently working on a crossword or something in his lap. The clouds parted for a moment, and the sunlight came down to make the pond sparkle. It caught his curly hair, the sharp edges of his face, and the magic of autumn burst to life around her. He looked so perfect, almost like a faerie king had taken a seat on the bench, that Rose couldn’t help herself. She raised the camera up, focused the lens, and snapped.   
  
His pencil tapped his lip, and Rose had to take another photo. She was stunned by the beauty of the photos when she looked down at the digital screen. The pictures were perfect, better than any of her others had ever been. She felt her heart stutter, and her throat run dry. She needed more. “Excuse me, sir.” Rose moved hesitantly towards him. What if he didn’t recognize her? Worse, what if he did?   
  
“What?” Those aquamarine eyes snapped up to hers, and his eyebrow arched. “Oh, it’s you. Come to scrape up my other hand?” Well shit. He remembered.   
  
“No, I um... I jus’ wanted to apologize, for what I said.” Rose fiddled with her camera strap, as those mesmerizing eyes burned into hers. “Because I am. ‘Nd I feel really awful.”   
  
“Apology accepted.” The Magician looked back down. Then he looked up again, and the grumpiness faded just a bit. “I’m sorry for shouting at you.”   
  
_Well color me shocked._ Rose thought in surprise. _God his lips look perfect. I wonder if they- no, shut up. He isn’t interested in you._ She needed a distraction because he was looking at her like she was the next clue on that puzzle.   
  
“I was wonderin’ if I could take a photo or two of you, for my portfolio. You’ve got amazing eyes.” Rose mentally slapped herself for slipping that out. God she was a moron. He was going to turn her down. See this was why he’d think she was creepy.   
  
“You want to photograph me?” The Magician scoffed, and Rose couldn’t blame him. She was just some crazy girl in the park. “Not gonna use them to show your dad or brothers the mean old man who yelled at you are ya?”   
  
“No, honestly. I need more people photos for my examples and website. I mostly just do nature and animals.” Rose needed to stop rambling, but holy hell he was folding his paper and tucking his pencil away.   
  
“Just a couple.” The Magician set the paper down and put his coffee on it. Rose almost fell over from shock. “How should I stand or look or whatever?”   
  
“Um, just one sitting. You don’t have to pose or anythin’. Natural works best.” He arched an eyebrow, let out an exhale, and draped an arm over the back of the bench. A breeze caught his hair, and Rose took the photo. He was absolutely enchanting. His legs uncrossed, and he leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees with his hands loosely clasped. Rose could barely breath as she pressed the button. “That was two.”   
  
“One more please?” What the hell was going on with her? Rose could barely keep her hands from trembling. Then, God save her, the Magician smiled. It pulled his lips back to reveal dazzlingly imperfect teeth, and set his laugh lines into fullness as his eyes crinkled. Rose took the shot, and had to swallow hard. “Thanks. Um, I can bring you copies if you want.” Oh she hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt.   
  
“No need for em.” The Magician shook his head as he stood, picking up his coffee and paper. “Hope I didn’t break your camera, Blondie.” Without a backward glance, he swaggered away, leaving Rose feeling a bit dazed.   
  
_You’ve got a crush_. Her inner voice sighed. Shame he probably thinks you’re a few chips short of a meal.   
  
“Can’t help it.” Rose sighed, blinking down to scroll through her shots. “Should be illegal to be that damn gorgeous.” By the time she looked up, he was gone, and the park seemed just a little less bright without his scowl.   
  
Aidan had to run. He’d had to. God Blondie was gorgeous, and she was so sweet and nervous too. The request for a photo had seemed odd at first, but after he’d said yes that smile had slapped him right in the gut. No woman should ever be allowed to look so stunning. Her blush had made it so much better and worse, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from smiling at her. He hadn’t smiled like that in years, five years and one week to be exact. “What are you doing you fucking idiot.” He groaned to himself as he shooed Bill out from behind the counter.   
  
It wouldn’t have been creepy to ask for her name. He mentally pined. _Or ask for the link to her website to see her work. She offered you prints. She’s probably still in the park. She said your eyes were amazing._ _  
_  
“No, stop thinking like that. She was just being nice.” Aidan groaned at himself as he tossed his paper down. He needed to stop thinking about Blondie. It was just  
  
“Who was being nice?” Bill’s chuckle reminded him she was still standing there. “Doctor, why are you blushing?!”   
  
“I’m not... Bill, I don’t blush.” Aidan scowled at her, trying to ignore the way his cheeks were burning a bit.   
  
“You are too! Oh my gosh, Doctor!” Bill laughed, bouncing eagerly on her toes. “You’ve got crush!” She giggled in a sing songy voice.   
  
“Bill, I’m forty-six not sixteen. I do not get crushes!” Aidan shoved off of his stool to push past his laughing friend. “Especially not on random blonde girls in the park!” Well shit, now he’d done it. “Don’t you say another word or you’re fired.” Bill only laughed harder, and Aidan kicked his own big mouth all the way back to the storage room.   
  
*AR*AR*AR*  
  
Rose was not a stalker. She wasn’t. She didn’t hunt him down, search for him, or anything. Yet somehow, over the last three weeks, the Magician had ended up in seventy eight of her photos. It was like her camera was drawn to him, just like her eyes. Sometimes he nodded to her when he walked past, but he hadn’t smiled at her again. That was a downright tragedy. Sometimes she waved, and he looked like he was surprised at her friendliness.   
  
Rose wanted to talk to him, but she was afraid she’d let it slip, let him know she wondered how those elegant hands would fit in hers, if his salt and pepper curls were as soft as they looked. He wouldn’t be interested, and she felt guilty for harboring these feelings. He still wore his wedding ring, so he was still mourning his late wife. Sometimes Rose wondered if her death was recent. She’d never ask though.  
  
Sometimes, she felt like he was watching her. Yet, when Rose turned, he was reading a book or the paper. A large part of her hoped he was. It would be wonderful if her muse felt even a sliver of how she did. She couldn’t deny it to herself anymore that it was more than intrigue. She was miles past pining. The Magician was stealing her heart, and she didn’t even know his name.   
  
Rose just hoped her longing wasn’t evident to everyone else, as she smoothed her black and pink tea dress and stepped back to look at the photograph on the wall. It had been a whim to enter the contest to win a chance to be part of an amateur art and photography show, and this picture had done it. It was the one of the Magician smiling.   
  
She had edited it so the only color in the whole photo was his eyes, and even now, she felt like she could drown in them. Rose had titled it “Autumn with a Faery King.” Maybe he was a Faerie King. Maybe that’s why he vanished as suddenly as he appeared, why she was so enamored by him. It was a silly thought, and Rose had to chuckle. While her exhibit did have almost a eighty pictures of varying size and topics and eleven of her paintings, the Magician was in forty of them.   
  
Maybe everyone would think he was a model, if anyone cared to question. Rose had posted an open invite on social media, but she didn’t have that many followers. Most were her prior clients, fellow artists, and her friends. There were seven other artists here too, and they would have people coming. Rose just hoped some of her work sold, and she really hoped nobody saw the truth behind her photos.   
  
“Rose, you really out did yourself!” Danny Pink, the fiancé part of a an engagement shoot she had done last month and a wedding she would be photographing come spring clapped her on the shoulder. “These are wonderful!”   
  
“Thanks.” Rose felt her spirits lift as he stepped back to admire the photo. “I’m so nervous. Nobody has said anything except you.” She looked around, realizing Clara’s exuberant smile was missing. “Where’s the future Mrs. Pink?”   
  
“She had to make a call.” Danny pointed to where Clara was standing off to the side with her phone pressed to her ear whispering furiously. “What’s his name, this Faerie King?”   
  
“Honestly.” Rose felt embarrassment flood her. “I don’t know. He’s just always in the park I like to go to, and he lets me take pictures sometimes.” Well it was only half a lie. He’d let her take pictures once. “He just seems to end up in almost every shot I take.” She pointed at the one next to it. She’d been aiming for a dog stalking a raven, but there was the Magician, walking just behind them, those teal eyes glancing down at the animals. “I call him the Magician, in my head.”   
  
“Faerie, Magician.” Danny gave a knowing chuckle. “Either way, seems like he’s worked some spell on you.” He gave a playful wink, and Rose groaned as her cheeks flooded. Was it that obvious? “And it definitely shows.”   
  
“I love that paintin’ of the sunset over the beach!” Clara came over smiling broadly. Rose looked past her to see one of the gallery workers taping a sold sign over the painting she had done last summer. “So much so, that Danny and I are officially your first show purchasers!”   
  
“Oh my god! Thank you!” Rose laughed as she hugged Clara. She wasn’t happy because it meant she had two hundred and fifty quid more than she had when she woke up. She was just happy that someone valued her favorite art form enough to buy it. At least they weren’t talking about her obsession with her favorite subject. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad.  
  
“Uncle Aidan, you need to get to the address I just texted you, and wear a suit!” Clara was talking so fast Aidan had barely understood her. “Just don’t ask, trust me, okay. It’s only ten minutes away from your flat, and it cost twenty quid to get in.”   
  
“But why?” Aidan stared at his shirtless reflection in the mirror. He’d just gotten out of the shower and was planning on reading.   
  
“You’ll see when you get here.” Clara sounded like she was about to explode. “And wear a suit! The nice one you wore for Donna’s wedding!” The call ended.   
  
Aidan stared at the mobile, a bit concerned and a bit flustered. She better not be trying to set him up on a date. He didn’t date, didn’t want to date. Well, he did, but Blondie wasn’t interested in him, never even talked to him. Not that he talked to her, didn’t know what to say. His usually overactive mouth and brilliant mind sort of turned to mush when he saw her.   
  
It wasn’t that he was purposefully looking for her. Blondie just happened to be exactly wherever his eyes seemed to wander in the park. She was never with the same people. In fact, she was usually alone. He wondered if she had a boyfriend a few times, but quickly chastised himself a fucking idiot for doing it. “She doesn’t want an old codger like you.” Not that forty six was old, but she could be his daughter. Not that he’d ever had kids. He quite enjoyed being the eccentric uncle.   
  
Still, he buttoned himself into his suit, combed and gelled his messy hair into some semblance of a style, and made his way down from the flat over his shop to hail a cab. Clara better not be planning to introduce him to someone. It was the only thing that made sense for seven at night on a Saturday.   
  
He blinked, in surprise, as the cab he had hailed pulled up to an art gallery that had a banned out front reading “Vortex Photography and Art show.” Why the hell would Clara bring him here? He wasn’t a fan of visiting galleries like this. He liked to view art in museums or in books. He strode up to the woman at the door with a money till, and pulled out the cover. “Oh mi’god. It’s you.” She gasped. “No, no cover! Go right in, all the way to the back.” With a stunned look, she handed him a ticket.   
  
“What’dya mean it’s me?” Aidan didn’t get an answer, as she was blocked by his view by a group that came up. He headed inside, looking for his niece and her fiancé.  He’d made it thirty steps before people were staring at him.   
  
“‘S him.”  
“No way. It is!”   
“Magician.”   
“Faerie king.”   
  
The whispers confused him, as he tried to pick his way through the patrons. He heard Clara’s laugh, as he rounded a sculpture of what may have been a tree, and stumbled to a halt. There, displayed on a wall, was a giant picture of himself. He was smiling, all black and gray and white, except for his eyes. They were sparkling out from the image, and he realized who had taken it. Blondie had taken that photo.   
  
“Well fuck me.” He gasped, as he saw that it wasn’t the only photo of him. Almost half of the photographs on display had him in them, from that stupid mutt that had tried to catch a raven, to the duck pond shimmering in the sunlight. If he wasn’t dead center, Aidan found himself in a corner, walking past, or even tossing a bit of fruit to some pigeons.   
  
It wasn’t just his face and body in the photos that shocked him. It was the absolute raw emotion in each frozen moment. She’d made him look handsome, almost mysterious, and he saw two captions that explained the other whispers. ‘Autumn with a Faerie king’ and ‘The Magician Passes By.’  
  
“Uncle Aidan!” Clara came bounding over, grinning ear to ear. “Why didn’t you tell me you were modeling for Rose?!”   
  
“Who?” Aidan ripped his eyes away from the three hundred and sixty degree displays of him. He wasn’t a model, not in the least. Models didn’t look like grumpy old men that scowled.   
  
“Rose Tyler, the woman who took all of these.” Clara waved her hand as if it should be obvious. “She did mine, and Danny’s engagement photos and she’ll be doing the wedding.” Her finger extended, to a familiar head of blonde hair talking to Danny and another couple. “I can’t believe you didn’t come to her first opening.”   
  
“She didn’t tell me.” Aidan felt a bit dizzy. Blondie had a name. It was Rose, a flower as beautiful as she was. She thought he looked like a Faerie King, like a Magician. No, it was impossible. He couldn’t feel like this again, and Blon-Rose definitely couldn’t.  
  
“Go talk to her, now!” Clara shoved his back, and Aidan found himself walking forward. “Rose!” His niece called out, and that smile turned away from Danny to shine on him.   
  
_Always watch what people photograph._ Melody whispered in his mind, and for a moment he was walking along a street in Rome ten years before. _It shows what they think is too perfect to miss._ _  
_ __  
A blush colored those cheeks, and those whiskey hazel eyes drifted down to a pair of pink heels that shifted nervously. Aidan barely registered Danny shooing the couple away, and he came to a stop before the girl. “Hello Blondie.” He couldn’t stop the smile from breaking his face. She was too beautiful, too radiant as her eyes met his.  
  
“Listen, I’m sorry if you’re upset. You have every right to be.” Rose was rambling just like she had that day she had caught him off guard to ask for photos. Then she lifted her eyes up. “Hang on, how did you even know?”  
  
“Clara’s my niece.” Aidan couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to brush a lock of hair from her eyes. “I’m not upset.” Far from it. Aidan was so far beyond flattered, beyond pining. She had been watching him as intently as he had been watching her, and the relief in her face made his chest well. “So you think I’m a Magician or a Faerie?” He dropped his hand as he teased her.   
  
“Oh god.” Rose’s blush deepened as she groaned, and he had to laugh. “You must think ‘m an idiot or a creep or stalker.” Her teeth caught that plump lower lip, the one he’d wondered about feeling between his own. “It’s just, you show up and disappear like magic, and even though you never smile, everything in that park seems brighter. I didn’t know your name.”   
  
“Aidan, my name is Aidan Lennox.” He held out his hand to take hers, hoping he wasn’t being a complete and utter fucking moron as he lifted her knuckles to his lips. Rose’s breath caught audibly, and he watched as her pupils blew wide. He knew that look, but it had been five years since any woman had turned it on him. Five, dark, lonely years. Yet, the last month, the world had been just a little brighter, every day from noon to one, when Rose was in the park.  
  
“‘M Rose, Rose Tyler.” Rose sounded as breathless and wonderstruck as he felt. He didn’t understand why she saw him like that, why she was stepping in closer to him, a hopeful look turning her lips up. “‘M so glad you came.” One of those hands smoothed his left lapel, and his heart skipped at the touch. Rose’s smile broadened.   
  
“Me too.” Aidan curled his fingers over hers on his chest and leaned down. Then, to his dazed but ecstatic relief, Rose pressed up and their lips met. Her hands slid up to loop around his neck, and Aidan curled his around her waist. He didn’t care that people were staring, that anybody was even present. Everything was blocked out by the beautiful, talented, sassy, bumbling flower in his arms. When they broke apart, he smirked down at her punch drunk expression. “That alright?”  
he sure hoped so, because he wanted to kiss her like that for the rest of his life. There was no doubt about it. 

  
“Fucking magical.” Rose could barely think straight, but she didn’t care. Her Magician, her Faerie King had a name. It was Aidan Lennox, and he wanted her as much as she wanted him. His gruff laugh at her words made her giggle, and before she could blink, Aidan was looping his arm around her waist and tucking her into his side.    
  
“Definitely fucking magical.” Aidan pressed a kiss to her hair, and Rose laced her fingers through his. She knew, as Clara and Danny came over smiling, that this wasn’t just magic. It was forever..


End file.
